by Tessa Afshar
Salmone, who had kept his comments to himself, exploded. “You can’t mean that!”
“Can’t I? And why would that be?”
Too roused to heed the dangerous light in Joshua’s eyes, Salmone said, “We have just put their whole people to death, in case you forgot. You think they’re going to live with us peacefully after that? We’ll have to sleep with one eye open for fear of being stabbed in the night by Jericho escapees seeking revenge.”
Joshua nodded. “A reasonable concern. Except that this woman herself helped with the destruction of her home by aiding our men. And her family helped right along by keeping quiet with her. If they were so concerned for Jericho, they would have tried to save it while they had the power. They will be harmless enough in our midst. Sorrowing, I dare say, but not vengeful.”
“And what about Rahab?”
Joshua bent his head to the side. “What about her?”
“She’s a zonah, whatever she claims about giving it up. She’s unclean.”
Joshua raised up a hand, palm up. “I think you and I had better have a walk together.” That was Joshua’s commander voice, brooking no disagreement. Salmone obeyed, his steps wooden.
Joshua said nothing until they entered a secluded grove just outside where Jericho’s walls once stood. Salmone chafed under the heavy silence, wondering how he had displeased the older man. Joshua came to an abrupt halt and turned to face him. “Such a heart of pride you have been harboring, my young friend.”
Shocked, Salmone’s eyes bulged. “My lord?” The formal words of address almost choked him as they came out.
“It’s unpleasant, this business, I know. But I must speak with you forthrightly. Salmone, your judgment on this woman is erroneous.
“Not that I blame you, mind. I understand the root of your opinions; I know how you formed them. It’s part and parcel of the way you young ones grew up. Your generation has had a hard lesson to learn. Your parents’ and grandparents’ lack of faith and disobedience changed your lives. Instead of being born and raised in homes of your own, you’ve endured the hardships of a meandering existence. You have never known the routine of a stable home life. The one security you young ones have known has been the Lord. It has made you cling to God in a way your parents weren’t able to do. Perhaps your children’s generation won’t inherit your resolve either. Maybe that’s why God allowed you to become wanderers in the first place.
“But there is an underside to every strength, and yours is showing right now, Salmone. You have grown judgmental in your attempt at righteousness.”
“I’m merely stating the facts.”
“Ah yes. She’s unclean. Vile with sin. What an unfamiliar concept to the nation of Israel. Because our greatest leader Moses never killed a man in rage. And our high priest Aaron never fashioned an idol of gold. Your own spotless ancestor, Judah, certainly didn’t ignore the rights of the widow of his sons. And God forbid he should walk by a pretty girl he mistook for a prostitute and turn aside into her tent. What a sore torment Rahab would be to pure, unblemished Israel.”
Salmone ground his teeth. “Are you comparing an adulterous woman to Moses?”
“In a way. I think you have forgotten, my young friend, that the blood of the spotless lambs on Passover covers your own sins too.” Salmone turned red, and Joshua nodded. “Do you remember my telling you about meeting with the commander of the army of the Lord? He told me that day that he was neither on our side nor the side of our enemy. It gave me a glimpse of the Lord’s heart. He is on the side of all who are on His side. And Rahab is on His side. Only your pride blinds you to that fact.
“Pride is the bane of the righteous. On the outside you may seem more upright than a woman with such a past, but God sees us from the inside. You’ve been so busy trying to keep the Commandments, trying to do everything right on the outside that you forgot your inner world can never bear the holy scrutiny of the Lord. And you have missed the self-righteousness that’s crept through your front door. You are mistaking condemnation for good judgment.
“Now I’m going to give you a new assignment to help you with your problem. I am putting Rahab and her family under the banner of the tribe of Judah. Specifically, I’m putting them under your charge.”
“But—”
“Stop. Don’t say another word unless it’s, ‘Yes, my lord’. I expect you to treat these people with respect. Help them settle in. Teach them our ways. Have I made myself understood?”
“Yes, my lord.” Salmone’s lips hardly moved as he spoke. He felt frozen within. Never had Joshua reprimanded him so completely. The man he admired most thought him self-righteous. Proud. Judgmental. Over a Canaanite zonah. He had fought hard to gain Joshua’s respect. The opinion of his mentor meant the world to him. And his criticism cut him to the core. His words snaked into his heart with bitter bile.
Resentment toward Rahab and her brood overflowed through him. His original objections against her were a matter of principle; he had had no personal vendetta against her. But after this encounter with Joshua a distinct dislike of her crept into his heart. He swiveled and strode back toward the heap that was once the city of Jericho. With narrowed eyes, he looked for Hanani. Joshua had given him an assignment and he meant to discharge it with obedience. He also had every intention of forcing this Canaanite woman to show her true nature.
He found Hanani sitting down to a meal of date cakes and roasted grain. In his mind, Hanani was tainted by association. He had pushed Rahab forward, after all. Without preamble or his customary warmth, Salmone said, “Where did you take that woman? Joshua has placed her and her family under my leadership.”
Hanani swallowed his mouthful of date cake. “You mean Rahab? They’re about an hour outside our camp. We can stop by on the way home, if you want.”
“No. It will be deep in the night by the time we get there. Let them spend the night where they are. We’ll deal with them in the morning.”
“Uh, you don’t sound too happy about it.”
“Me unhappy? I’m positively jubilating. Just what I always wanted for my tribe—a Canaanite adulteress and her morally destitute kin. That ought to bring peace and tranquility to my people.”
“Salmone, I don’t think—”
“That’s right; you don’t,” he bit off and walked away.
He spent the next two hours checking on those under his charge, taking note of the wounded, hearing their tales of battle, making sure those needing help received adequate assistance. Shoving his churning feelings into a side pocket of his mind, he allowed his usual warmth to flow over his men, praising them for acts of valor and taking note of their experiences. He held a short meeting with the commanders who reported to him before allowing himself to make for home.
The moon had been aloft for hours by the time he trudged back. Just outside Israel’s camp, he stripped off his clothes, washing off the blood and sweat of battle until he was ceremonially clean. Then he dragged himself into the camp, drained and spent, beyond tired. What should have been a day of elation tasted bitter in his mouth. Knowing that messengers had already done the work of bringing news for wives and mothers and sisters waiting at the camp, he made a straight line for his tent.
His younger sister Miriam, named for Moses’ famed sibling, almost threw him on the ground with the force of her body as she slammed against him in a fierce hug.
“Umph!” he mumbled, trying to catch his breath. “If the soldiers of Jericho fought the way you hug, we might not have won.”
She smacked him on the arm. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
Salmone patted her head, forgetting that she was now a woman grown and not a child. “Safe and sound and bleary with exhaustion.”
“To bed with you, then. Tomorrow, you can tell me about the battle and the wall falling. Ezra described it, but he had to be brief. I bet your version is more exciting.”
“Bloodthirsty girl. Away before you give me nightmares.”
Salmone crawled into his pallet, st
retching aching muscles, trying to unwind. He didn’t pray, not even to praise God for His miraculous intervention or his own safe return. He told himself he was too weary, but in a deeper recess of his mind he was aware that what kept him from God was not exhaustion, but anger. He felt angry about his unfair fight with Joshua. He felt angry about the burden of Rahab. And most of all he felt angry about the possibility that Joshua might just be right about him.
Morning dawned bright, and for Salmone, not cheerful. Miriam came in with breakfast and an elated smile. Everyone in Israel grinned this day. Their cheer irritated him. They didn’t have any unpleasant chores to mar the taste of victory on their lips. They didn’t have to deal with a Canaanite zonah.
What was he to do with these foreigners anyway? He couldn’t breeze into camp with them in tow. There were a hundred rules and laws that they could unknowingly break within the first hour. He decided to leave them where they were until they had received some basic tutelage.
“What’s wrong with you, brother? Were you injured yesterday?” Miriam asked, frowning at Salmone.
He sat up on the mattress and punched the pillows behind him, ostensibly to fluff them. “No, I wasn’t injured.”
“Then why are you acting like a camel with a sore tooth?”
He raked his hand through his hair, making it stand up in dark spikes. It didn’t help that he was already tussled from sleep. “It’s complicated.”
Miriam snorted. “Well hurry up and dress. I’m going with you to help.”
“To help what? What are you talking about?”
“Your complication. I believe its name is Rahab, and she came with a few relatives attached.”
Salmone almost sputtered with shock. “How do you know about Rahab?”
“Calm yourself. You’ll give yourself desert fever. Joshua told me earlier this morning. He asked me to help you.”
“You! What for? He’s put a slip of a girl to spy on me—my own sister, no less!” He threw her a look that practically screamed traitor.
Frowning, Miriam waved a dismissive hand. “Of course not. He asked me to help with the women. You’ll have an awkward time of it trying to explain the laws pertaining to them. I’m to help them fit in and get assimilated.”
“Oh.”
“Apology accepted. Such a churl is my only brother, and on the day of Israel’s great victory. Why, may one inquire?”
Salmone shrugged. “I don’t see eye to eye with Joshua on this. I think it’s a mistake to transplant these people into our camp. If God led us to spare them, so be it. I’d rather not shed any more blood than I have to. But should they join us?”
“She sounds like a brave woman of faith. What do you have against her?”
“She is a zonah, Miriam. Come to think of it, I’m not sure that it’s wise for you to spend much time with her. Let Joshua send his own sister if he feels compelled to help them.”
“Hanani and Ezra spent a whole night with her. Alone. And they haven’t been corrupted. I dare say I shall be able to withstand any nefarious influence she might have. Besides, Joshua asked me personally, and I’m not going to disappoint him.”
“Well, Joshua should have asked my permission first.”
“Take it up with him if you want. Now, when are we going to visit them?”
Salmone groaned. He couldn’t fight both Joshua and his sister. They were the two people in the world who wielded the greatest influence on his heart. And in truth, he wasn’t worried about Miriam. She could manage ten Canaanite harlots without coming to harm. He was just looking for excuses to thwart Joshua’s plan. Resentfully he pulled a robe over his head at the same time as sticking his feet into well-worn sandals with an energy born of irritation.
“Right now. We are going to visit them right now. Let’s go find Hanani so that he can show us the way. Ezra knows it too, come to think of it. We’ll take the first one that crosses our path.”
They found Ezra not far from their tent, humming a sunny tune as he carried water.
“Ezra!” Salmone called.
“Good morning, Salmone.” His smile stretched to the point of breaking his face in half as he noticed Salmone’s companion. “Morning, Miriam.”
“Hello, Ezra. My brother and I need your help.”
“Anything. Anything you—”
“Yes, yes,” Salmone interrupted. “I need to get to Rahab’s campsite. Can you take us?”
“Of course. We settled them at an oasis not far from here.” He looked about for a place to put his water jug, then changed his mind and placed it back on his shoulder. “I’ll bring this. They need fresh water.”
Salmone made a gagging noise under his breath.
Ezra and Miriam spoke most of the way, or at least Miriam spoke and Ezra listened with enthusiasm. Salmone ignored both and spent his time wondering how long he would have to be saddled with these last remaining residents of Jericho before they could be forced to show their true colors.
A small camp came into view. Under the shade of tall palms, several children played a game while a woman watched. Three women prepared some kind of meal over the fire. One man gathered firewood, another slept, and two were engaged in quiet conversation. The scene appeared familiar and domestic. Innocent. Distinctly unsinister. This family had lost everything and everyone they knew, Salmone realized. They must be devastated. He swallowed a sudden lump of guilt. In his mental strivings, they had become abstract, two-dimensional beings, without humanity. The scene he walked toward took that blindfold from his eyes.
As his company approached, Rahab’s family noticed them and stopped their activities. Even the sleeping man was roused, and the children quieted down. When they drew close, a woman stepped forward. She was dressed in a modest gown of high-quality fabric, her hair covered by the folds of dark linen. Large wide-set eyes looked at him through thick lashes. They widened with recognition before she hastily lowered them. He hadn’t forgotten her face either, not even after their briefest encounter in a burning city. She had skin so translucent the sun seemed to go right through it. Her unusual coloring—golden eyes and chestnut hair peeking through her scarf—heightened the exotic femininity that stamped her every feature. Salmone gave himself a mental kick. Was he truly standing there, admiring a Canaanite woman? Never mind Miriam, he was the one in need of protection.
She turned to Ezra, and gave him a quick dip of respect in the manner common to Canaanites. “Welcome, Ezra.”
“Good morning, Rahab. I have brought you a little water.”
Rahab! This was Rahab? Had a woman ever looked less like a harlot? Where were her dangles and bobbles? Where were her sheer veils and clinging skirts and face paint? Where her brazen expression and forthright sexuality?
Ezra interrupted Salmone’s dazed thoughts with an introduction. “Rahab, this is Salmone, son of Nahshon, one of the leaders of the tribe of Judah. And this is Miriam, his sister. Salmone, this is Rahab, who saved Hanani and me from certain death.”
Rahab dipped another curtsy, deeper this time in respect to Salmone’s position. “You honor us with your presence, my lord.” After introducing the members of her family she asked, “Would you share a meal with us? We have some fresh pan bread and raisin cakes.”
Salmone, annoyed at having to spend half his day dealing with people he little trusted, and even more annoyed at finding himself impressed by Rahab’s looks and manners, curled his lip. “No. We have come to tell you that Joshua has decided your family can move into Israel’s camp. Conditionally.”
Before he could open his mouth and spell out his conditions, Rahab shocked him by prostrating herself on the ground. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you. May God bless you.” Her wide eyes were drowned in unshed tears.
“Rise up, woman,” he barked. “I cannot talk to you thus with your face in the dust.” Miriam gasped. Salmone ignored her. In truth, he hadn’t intended to sound so harsh, but the sight of Rahab’s tears and importunate humility moved him too deeply for comfort. Annoyed with his own unbi
dden response of compassion, he strove for perspective. This woman would wreak havoc in Judah if allowed. Knowingly or unknowingly, she would unleash corruption and confusion. Salmone hardened his softening heart and narrowed his gaze.
Rahab’s face turned the color of chalk, and she scrambled to her feet. “Pardon.”
Salmone pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, wishing someone would wipe that wounded look from the woman’s face. “Listen, I said conditionally and I meant it. You must give up all your idols and false gods. Do you understand? All. The Lord is a jealous God. He will not put up with idolatry. Any of you who wish to live with Israel must dedicate himself to the Lord. And you must keep our laws. Joshua has put you under my care, in the tribe of Judah. I am now responsible to teach you what you must know. When you have been prepared, then you may move into our camp. Until then you must stay here.”
Rahab’s older brother stepped forward, bowing with diffidence. “My lord, how are we to learn these laws? And how are we to learn about the Lord?”
“My sister Miriam will help your women. I will send any man I can spare every day to teach you.
“Now you must tell me, each one, are you willing to give up your idols and worship the Lord only? For understand this: the punishment for idolatry will most probably be death.”
The same brother answered, “Rahab has already explained to us that we must give up the gods we grew up with. We have, every one of us, chosen to do this, for the Lord is mighty. He has proven Himself great above all other gods. But we are very ignorant, I fear.”
At least they knew and acknowledged their ignorance. Humility could pave the way for a successful assimilation, Salmone conceded. Before he could respond, the younger brother stepped forward. There was something tight-lipped and sullen about his attitude. This one was struggling with his decision, Salmone guessed. He sharpened his focus on the younger man, gauging his attitude, trying to read his expression. Was there hatred? Revenge? Violence? He tensed, unconsciously taking a battle-ready stance.